Sunday, September 17, 2023

Jane Miller



SEPARATION

Well my Cadillac now that the hog herding has begun

big ones spray-gunned

is this the permission we long for

not in prose or stone but in action?

electric-prodded out of the pen backed into the bloody aisle

pigs chew pigs' tails

whack the metal feeders charge the gate

so it's beauty in the end we were after or serenity?

slapped on the rump shoved at the truck

who shall not ever again find anchorage

never feared July never feared June

every one with an inconsolable mother. . .

My ballast

I've scratched a key along the side of a white Camaro

in hog heaven the place one finds

community possible desirable

.

my legendary embankment

I will never get over you

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